


Edward

by Esperata



Series: Arkham Correspondence [3]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Arkham Asylum, Daydreaming, Letters, Love Confessions, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 19:44:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18745816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esperata/pseuds/Esperata
Summary: Edward is enduring his stay in Arkham as best he can, dreaming of what might have been.





	Edward

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> I am indebted to Ioe for allowing me to utilise these ideas in my work.

Edward had never been a very good sleeper. His over active mind worked against him getting into the state of relaxation necessary for sleep. Arkham did nothing to make this any easier. The screams of the insane echoing throughout the night meant that even if he did manage to drift off, his sleep was generally disturbed.

Added to which his recent emotional turmoil over realising his feelings for Oswald were plaguing him mercilessly. The drugs might suppress his hallucinations of Riddler but the other version of himself was still very much apparent in his mind. Further proof if any was needed that Ed and the Riddler truly were one and the same, even if distinctly different in their mannerisms. His commentary over all the times Ed had missed the clues or been especially unthinking in his own actions kept him pacing anxiously long into the night.

So when he began to wake gradually one morning, instead of being shocked violently awake, he kept his eyes closed and tried hard to hang onto the last vestiges of peace. The dream had been especially comforting and he didn’t want to leave it. Therefore despite the fact his higher reasoning told him that it was all in his mind, he dedicated himself to interweaving the reality he felt with the one his mind wanted.

“You’re so soft,” he murmured, pressing his face into the softness against his cheek, and pulling the yielding form closer to him.

This was not the Oswald he had hugged previously, all sharp shoulders and stick thin, but that didn’t have to mean it wasn’t Oswald he was hugging now.

“I’m glad you’re not running yourself ragged anymore,” he continued idly. He ran his fingers over the smooth surface. A contented hum followed which he chose to believe had come from Oswald.

“You deserve to enjoy some luxuries. I will cook for you every day. Only the very best for you.”

He placed a kiss on the area by his lips but quickly turned to rest his cheek there again at the unnaturally dry texture. That wasn’t any good to his dream.

The jarring discrepancy was enough to disrupt his carefully constructed fantasy and he frowned as his mind switched into gear. This wasn’t Oswald in his arms. In all likelihood Oswald would never lie in his arms like this. Why would he after every rejection Ed had offered him?

He’d shot him, told him he didn’t love him, and betrayed him for a woman who wound up betraying _him_ , just to name a few examples.

Ed opened his eyes and glared irritably at the pillow wrapped in his arms before hurling it across the room. Pathetic. That’s what he was. Oswald had saved his life countless times, often at great personal sacrifice, and the best Ed could say was that he hadn’t left him to fight for Gotham alone. Even then he hadn’t been able to tell the man he was staying for him not the worthless city.

He sat up and grasped his hands deep into his tangled hair. What was it he had told Oswald? Love was about sacrifice? It was ridiculous looking back to think he had lectured Oswald on the topic. What had Ed ever sacrificed for anyone he claimed to love? Nothing. It was foolish to hope that Oswald could still love him.

Yet he did hope. His heart ached with wanting to know. He cast his gaze across to where he’d tucked his current allocation of paper on the little shelf. Normally he would start a new letter to Oswald as soon as possible. This time however he hesitated. There was only one thing he wanted to say but he simply didn’t know how.

Could he open with such a blunt statement? Surely he needed to prepare Oswald for his change of heart. But how did one do that?

“Nygma!”

The sharp voice broke his inward introspection and he looked up to see one of the guards staring at him in annoyance. Seeing he had his attention the guard held up an envelope.

“Letter for you.”

Edward rushed to the bars and reached quickly for the letter. Only one person ever wrote to him and right now it was as important to him as air.

The guard however immediately moved out of reach and raised his baton.

“Step back from the bars.”

There was a second before Ed came back to himself and dutifully moved back a few feet. It was another cautious few seconds before the guard dropped down and slid the letter across the floor into the cell. Edward immediately snatched it up and returned to his cot, instantly forgetting the irrelevant messenger.

He held the envelope to his nose in the hope of catching a scent of Oswald. He thought he detected a hint of ginger but nothing that made him think of Penguin. With a vague sigh he opened it up. Oswald’s letters were always full of kindness and considerate words but right now Ed suspected those would cut just as deep as insults. Too little to assuage his burning need to love the other man.

Which was why he blinked in surprise at the opening address; _Dearest darling Edward._

He lowered the letter and stared at the wall. This had to be a hallucination. He didn’t have them much anymore but on odd occasions when he was unusually stressed he could disassociate. Perhaps his revelation regarding Oswald was causing him to see things.

For a few minutes he focused on his exercises, breathing steadily and reciting a mantra under his breath. Then he looked again at the letter.

His breath hitched as he understood it was _real_. With the voracious appetite of a starving man his eyes devoured the rest of the words, barely taking them in except for their overall meaning. Oswald _loved_ him. _Oswald_ loved him. Oswald loved _him_.

He broke out into almost hysterical laughter, unwittingly setting off a number of inmates along the corridor, and stood to pace restlessly still clutching the latter to his breast. Once he’d recovered his breath he looked again at it, his eyes softening as they flowed slower over the loving words. A smile played at the corner of his lips as he read Oswald’s recitation of his mother’s advice. That was so typically Oswald.

Then his mind caught up with everything and he ground to a halt, frowning thoughtfully. What had prompted this heartfelt outpouring from Oswald? Granted Edward found it perfectly timed but that couldn’t be a coincidence could it? He had long since grown suspicious of such synchronicity. Previously he would have put it down to fate, just as he had so casually put Isabella’s appearance to fate, and see where that had got him.

No. He was missing some important puzzle piece and he needed to find out what it was.

Sitting down again he looked the letter over analytically. Almost immediately he noticed the clue he needed to unravel the mystery: _You must thank your therapist for encouraging this particular exercise._

Before he could think through what he was doing Ed was on his feet again clutching at the bars and screaming.

“You sent my letter you bastards! That was supposed to be confidential! When I get out of here…” He trailed off and looked back to the precious page resting on his sheets. He couldn’t help but feel his heart lift and a smile break across his face.

Turning back to the corridor he continued where he left off.

“I will get you the biggest thank you gift you have ever received!”

With a burst of laughter he spun back into his room, picked up his previously discarded pillow and curled up again with it on his bed to reread his first love letter.

“My dear little bird,” he whispered and sighed.


End file.
